Scotch in the Afternoon
by pari106
Summary: The beginning of a "Whole Nine Yards" fic I may or may not continue. Cynthia's thoughts before Yanni introduces her to Oz.


Going the Distance  
by pari106  
  
A/N: I really liked this movie, and I saw it didn't have a listing…so I started one. Hope you like it. And if   
you haven't seen the movie, and get a little confused at first, keep reading – it all kind of works itself out.   
Atleast…it's supposed to. If not, I apologize. E-mail me at pari106@hotmail.com and I'll answer   
questions. Okay? Okay – read and review already!  
  
Summary: Cynthia and Oz go from acquaintances…to much more, while their lives go from unlivable to   
unbelievable in the same span of time.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for language, mentions of violence, and sexual situations.  
  
(A/A/N: This is a work in progress. I actually started this a long time ago, and lost track of it. But I may   
continue it some day. Give me feedback so I know if I'm going in the right direction!)  
  
  
  
Scotch in the afternoon. How depressing.  
  
The funny thing was that as she sat there, sipping her dry liquor – tall glass, no water, no ice – Cynthia   
Tudeski didn't feel depressed. She didn't really feel anything. It was funny…considering that a Chicago   
crime family was just in the other building, plotting her husband's demise. Or at least it would have been –   
for a usual married couple. But she and Jimmy were anything but usual. Usual couple saw each other   
more than once every five years…or at least she thought so. She hoped so.  
  
With a sigh, Cynthia sank her head in her hands and abandoned her pretenses. Who was she kidding? Of   
course she felt something – how could she not be? It was a point she prided herself on, actually. The fact   
that she could still feel…anything now. Anger, fear, sorrow…anything. In a life like this it was quite an   
accomplishment to keep feeling and not go insane. Or not very insane, anyway. She could still feel…even   
if she hid it behind so many self-erected masks and acted all cool and collected…she could still feel.   
  
She was feeling something now, though she wasn't quite sure what. After all the years of turbulence being   
married to Jimmy, all the years of suspicion and anger when he disappeared…all the numbness that   
followed, she still wasn't quite sure what she felt about Jimmy "the Tulip" Tudeski. A hit-man. Her   
husband.   
  
She didn't love him anymore…the very possibility that she might was laughable. But she didn't   
really…hate him, really. She certainly didn't want to see him dead. But what did that mean, exactly? She   
never wanted to see anyone die…but that hadn't stopped Jimmy from killing. It certainly wouldn't stop   
Yanni from avenging his father on Jimmy now. That was the kind of world they lived in; it happened. I   
would happen to her. Because she didn't want to see Jimmy dead…but the feeling was far from mutual.  
  
These thoughts filled Cynthia with an emotion she could identify: fear. She was afraid. She'd been afraid   
for a long time, now. For as long as she could remember, really. Ever since she'd left the nice, decadent,   
innocent life her parents had fashioned her…to become the wife of a charming, enigmatic…serial killer.   
That's what he was, basically. A charming, enigmatic, slightly unbalanced, womanizing serial killer.   
Who, of all things, had no trouble with murder, but frowned heavily upon divorce.  
  
And so she sat there, with her scotch, waiting for Johnny "Yanni" Gogalach to announce the whereabouts,   
and thereby the fate, of her wayward spouse. She been sitting there, on the patio, for hours now. There   
was little else to do on the Gogalach estate, with Yanni's goons always a foot or two behind. There were   
none with her now, but she knew they were within distance.   
  
And so was the man who would lead Yanni to Jimmy.  
  
Cynthia sipped her scotch, thinking about the nameless, faceless man Yanni had oh-so-casually mentioned   
to her this morning. The one who had reportedly come to give Tudeski in. She didn't know anything about   
him, but she knew she didn't like this situation – not at all. She was used to the type of opportunistic,   
cutthroat people who circulated in Jimmy's business. But if this man was so opportunistic and cutthroat,   
why didn't he just off Jimmy himself and collect the contract? And if he wasn't, then what was he doing in   
Chicago?   
  
The man was an enigma – and Cynthia had far too many of those to deal with already. Far too many   
questions she needed answered. Like why she even cared about this man who would make her a widow.   
Regardless of who he was, or why he was, she was going to die…by the hand of Jimmy, or Yanni, or   
someone like them. Perhaps by this new guy. Perhaps he had killed Jimmy himself, and Yanni hired him   
to call in her contract, as well. It didn't really matter. The point of the whole thing was that she would die.   
She'd realized that the day she'd realized that her marriage to Jimmy was, for all intents and purposes,   
over.   
  
And yet, resigned though she may be to her fate, Cynthia's fear for her life had just begun. Just as she   
prided herself in her emotions, she also took pride in her resilience. In having survived the years of Jimmy.   
She hadn't totally given up…not yet. She hadn't really stopped dreaming of what it would be like – to be   
normal, to be free. Just that morning she'd gone for lunch at a downtown restaurant she really liked – and   
she'd bumped into the most charming man. Very handsome, in a boyish way. They'd only talked, briefly,   
but it had been one of those refreshing moments when Yanni's men had allowed her to venture inside   
alone, opting to wait outside for her in the car. And the man had obviously been from out of town. The   
locals were much more accustomed to seeing her about with her…escorts. She was so impressed with the   
novelty of that, that she actually gave the man her number. Her phone number!  
  
It had really made her think.  
  
'Like a fool,' she suddenly thought to herself. What was she doing? Even if the man did call, what then?   
Why did she feel the need to imagine the impossible? Or, even worse, to pursue it? Chance meetings,   
romance…sex and love. None of that really mattered to her anymore, did it? No. No, of course not.   
She'd always associated those things with life, and she was hardly living now. Just…existing, day after   
day, as she would until…  
  
Well, just until.  
  
And then two of Yanni's men were approaching her.  
  
"Mr. Gogalach wishes to see you now, Mrs. Tudeski," said one of them.  
  
And Cynthia choked down her emotions with the last gulp of her scotch.  
  
"Well…let's not keep Mr. Gogalach waiting," she said.  
  
And led the way to Yanni's office. 


End file.
